


I Loved You Since

by Azar443



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 06:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12007353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar443/pseuds/Azar443
Summary: There are quiet whispers that haunt Percival Graves, ones that say he’s being replaced soon, and that Madame Picquery is looking at potential names that they can train to take his place eventually.





	I Loved You Since

The department is deathly quiet, which isn’t strange seeing as it’s lunch time for everyone. Well, almost everyone. One of the office lads is trying to catch a stray enchanted mouse that slipped into the department of Magical Security by accident, and he manages to grab the little thing under the table when he hears a loud  _bang_ from the Director’s office. The boy freezes, but all is still again so he grabs at the mouse and scurries out of the department. He has no intention of facing the intimidating man all by himself.

The two inhabitants in Percival Graves’ office freeze as the heavy paperweight, jarred from their vigorous activities on the desk, knocks a pile of books onto the floor and a resounding crash is heard throughout the entire department. They hold their breaths and stare at each other because if anyone comes through that door, they are screwed. Moments pass and no one barges in, and Percival lets out a strangled laugh as he leans against your forehead, beaded with perspiration. Chest heaving, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and grin slyly, “Shall we continue?” Your partner only growls as he pushes you down so that your bare back meets the cool wood of his desk, and soon the only sounds in the room are guttural moans and groans as he fucks you hard and fast, and when you both reach your peak, you swear this is the best orgasm anyone has given to you in years.

When the deed is done, Percival lifts himself from you with some difficulty, grunting as his left leg gives out slightly from the strain. You reach out to help him but he waves you away, charming his clothes and hair back to their proper places, and soon his shirt is buttoned all the way up and his hair is slicked back once more and you awkwardly remove yourself from the desk, wincing at how your flesh sticks to the wood. A warm hand helps you down from the desk and he passes you your clothes, neat and unrumpled thanks to his magic. When you’re both dressed and don’t look like you’ve just been having sex, he sees you out of his office with a crooked smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The door closes, and you feel strangely empty even though you’ve just had the best sex you’d had in so long.

* * *

There are quiet whispers that haunt Percival Graves, ones that say he’s being replaced soon, and that Madame Picquery is looking at potential names that they can train to take his place eventually. He sees the sideway glances and hushed whispers they send his way when they see him limping down the hallways with his cane, leg weakened from being broken and healed and broken again by Grindelwald. He hates the pity, the guilty way his Aurors don’t meet his eyes, and the way everyone speaks and treads softer around him, afraid that he’ll break. He doesn’t hate you, however, or the way you throw sandwiches at him when he forgets to eat, or the way you writhe under him while he’s thrusting deeper and deeper into you, drawing the most delicious of moans from you, or the way your eyes light up whenever he throws a casual word of praise your way for successful missions. What he hates however, is how he feels when everyone chitters and jokes about how you’ll replace him one day, even though you’ve only been an Auror for a little over four years, a complete baby compared to the others. And you both know it’s stupid, that it’s impossible and that it could never happen, but he always looks away from you. You’ll frown and shush idle chatter because you’d never want to replace him and how could they have forgotten everything the man who forged the strongest defences for wizarding America in the last century has done? You know the damage is done though, when he ignores your quiet goodbyes in the evenings and there’s nothing in his eyes when he gazes at you, but the next evening always sees him appearing at your doorway and kissing you like a drowning sailor desperate for breath and life.

* * *

You’re selected to participate in a mission one day, to apprehend a group of witches and wizards suspected of smuggling magical creatures. Thanks to Newt Scamander’s efforts in educating the wizarding world about the true nature of creatures, MACUSA is enforcing laws that are aimed towards the protection of magical creatures in the United States, and this is one of the first missions carried out in cooperation with the newly formed Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. With this being a rather new experience for everyone involved, Percival himself is leading the mission and you manage to slip into his office for a quick kiss before you Apparate to join your colleagues. With Percival’s sure leadership, everything goes accordingly and more than half of the smugglers have been rounded up. You, Percival and Jacobs are duelling the remaining few smugglers and as their numbers dwindle, so does everyone’s caution.

No one is quite sure whose fault it is, but somehow one smuggler remains unaccounted for, and when Percival thinks back on it, he wonders if he’s losing his touch. They’re binding the criminals and preparing them for transport back to MACUSA, and half of the team are venturing into the warehouse, searching for signs of any smuggled creatures, when suddenly Percival is moving, fast, precise and deadly. He manages to cast a lightning quick protective barrier around himself and the nearby Aurors before a spell collides with the barrier, and everyone turns to see a wizard who managed to get away. He’s firing spell after spell and Percival is a marvellous dueller who keeps up with him easily, only you can see his face pinch with pain and you know his left leg is paining him. You and Simmons manage to move quietly enough that you’re behind the wizard, and he falls forward with his arms and feet bound, and his wand is Accio’d out of his grip.

Simmons and another junior Auror force the criminal to his feet and you move towards a heavily breathing Percival, when his leg gives out and he buckles to the ground. Everyone freezes, not because he’s hurt, but because this is the first time anyone has seen him weak, and  _oh_  how Percival wishes he can’t see the look of fear and worry and pity in their eyes. If only he were the man he was before, strong and unbending and unyielding, he would never have faltered, and now his people have seen him weak, and he wonders if those whispers will grow in strength and volume until they’re no longer whispers, but truths he will have to face.

As much as you want to rush to him and help him up, you know his dignity and pride will not forgive you, regardless of whatever it is that you have with him. So you move away and hasten everyone to get back to MACUSA, but there’s a loud pop and he’s gone and you don’t go after him because he’s taught you that work is work, so you dutifully take a bound perpetrator by the hand and Apparate back to MACUSA, even though your heart is singing out to you to find him, to make sure he’s ok and to kiss him till he’s healed.

It’s a gruelling process, the post mortem procedures of a mission, and you have to fill in 3 reports; one to Madame Picquery, one to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and one for Percival. Then there’s a debriefing about what happens and no one mentions Percival’s moment of weakness, and you’re grateful for that, because you don’t think his pride would allow everyone to look at him with more pity than they already do. He is absent from the debriefing, and a quick questioning of your colleagues reveal that they’ve not seen him, and that he’s not in his office either. You’re nervous now, because Percival has never, in all the time you’ve worked under him, left the office during working hours; this is the man who refuses to go home even when he has a raging fever that leaves him dizzy and nauseous. You worry your lip as you wonder if you should visit his home, and you know how much he values his privacy, but you also know if he’s left to his own thoughts, the hurt and doubt and frustration will fester into something that leaves his eyes hooded and wary, stripping away the man he used to be. You think you’d rather face an angry Percival rather than an empty, hurt Percival who doesn’t think he’s good for anything, so you leave the Woolworth building and Apparate to his home.

You’re grateful that he’s told you how to disable his wards once, in the event of an emergency because he doesn’t admit it, but you’re one of the very few people he trusts, aside from the President and the Goldstein sisters. You materialise in his spacious living room, and promptly duck when a vase comes sailing towards your head. You cock an eyebrow at a heavily breathing Percival, attempting to lighten the mood, “You realise that vase probably cost more than my entire salary for a month?” He gapes at you, mostly because he doesn’t think he’d see you in his home, but you see a frown tug on his brow so you move closer towards him, stopping when you see his shoulders tense at your close proximity. The both of you stand like that for some time, staring at one another, and he’s the first to break the silence, and your heart hurts because he sounds so  _tired_.

“I let everyone down today.”

You open your mouth to protest that it’s because of him that everyone is safe, but he cuts you off, pacing as he grows more agitated. “I was weak today. I can’t afford to be weak.” You reach out to touch him, but he shrugs you off and continues murmuring, “Everyone already thinks I’m weak, that I need to be replaced. I can’t prove them right.” He stops suddenly, and his piercing gaze takes your breath away because he’s  _begging_  you to understand. “ _I can’t_.” Feet pushing you forward, you grasp his face in your hands and he fights you, but you hold fast as you breathe out harshly, “ _You are not weak_. You are the bravest, strongest man I know and anyone who says otherwise are fucking  _idiots_.” There’s a choked sound coming from him and you press kisses onto his face, the sharp lines of his jaw, on the bump of his Adam’s apple and he stops you and just holds you. You breath his scent in, a distinct medley of sweat and sharp cologne and a woodiness that’s so  _him_ , and there’s something wet on your head. His back is shaking in your hold, and you pull him tighter towards you and you’re shushing and soothing his hurt soul, and when he kisses you, you taste the salt of his tears and yours, and you taste smoke and whiskey and lust and love.

You think you’ve been standing there for close to an hour, and when he disentangles from you, his eyes are red and tired and you say nothing as you lead him into his room. You make him sit on the bed as you remove every bit of clothing on him first, before divesting yourself of your soot stained clothes as well. When you’re both as unclothed and naked as the day you are born, you push him gently to lie and you straddle and mount him. The room is still and dark and your lovemaking is quiet with small gasps as you grind harder down on him, and he’s gritting his teeth as he grips your hips, thrusting deeper and deeper into you. You close your eyes to the sound of sweat slicked skin slapping against one another, and his hand reaches up to grasp at a breast, and you mewl slightly as he gives a gentle squeeze, rolling your sensitive nipples in between calloused fingers. Panting, you lean down onto him and kiss him deeply, tasting and drinking him in and you sigh in his mouth because he tastes as ambrosia might.

He’s gentle as he flips you under him, and you teasingly squeeze your legs around him, and he grunts before he’s moving faster, thrusting harder and your head is thrown back to the headboard in ecstasy, murmuring his name and  _oh faster, yes, please Percival, oh gods yes_  and he’s so good to you. He picks you up and cradles you close, and your foreheads are leaning against one another as his pace becomes more erratic and his hand is rubbing at your clit and you think you breathe his name before you’re lost to your climax. Your eyes roll back in pleasure and he bites your neck as he spills himself within you, and you’re both shuddering and gasping for air. He pulls you back down onto the bed, and you’re both sweaty and tired and the room smells of sex but he just tugs you into his arms and there are gentle kisses all over your face. You fall asleep to the comforting motion of his hand threading through your hair, and the sleep you get that night is peaceful and warm and full of hopeful dreams.

You wake up to the smell of bacon the next morning, and following the delicious smell, you find Percival in the kitchen cooking, his back towards you, and what a lovely back it is. It’s scarred, certainly, but you happen to think scars are sexy. His shoulder blades are sharply defined, and he’s not the largest man, but you think he’s perfect. You bite your lip mischievously and you wrap your hands around him, bare chest against his back and you nibble on his ear as you whisper a soft good morning to him. There’s a rumble of laughter from his chest that tickles you, and he turns towards you and captures your lips in a kiss so deep you feel quite faint. He has a plate of bacon in one hand, and with his other hand, he tugs you over to the kitchen table, and you make yourself comfortable on his lap. You feed each other bits of delicious bacon, and you talk of mundane things, and when you rise to wash the plates, he surprises you when he kisses you once, twice, and the third time he kisses you, he tells you he thinks he’s fallen in love with you. There’s a blinding smile on your lips as you return his kisses, and you whisper that you’ve already loved him since


End file.
